Constrictum
by Canis Lupus Arctos
Summary: Voldemort has won his first war. Everything has fallen apart. Normal people have it horrible, but werewolves have it the worst. Darkficish.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Constrictum

I remember the first time I tried to escape. No one ever forgets what that feels like. I can remember every little detail from the time I left my room to the time I was returned to it.

The rest of the day before my attempt was blurry. Only one thought stood out in my mind: freedom. It wasn't freedom from what I was; that kind of freedom I knew would never come. Maybe it was the idea of being able to live. Actually live, not just exist.

It was foolish, actually. I had only been here a month and already I wanted to get out. But of course, I was a year younger then, and it does me no good to think about how foolish I was then or what I should have done differently.

The plans weren't even that carefully laid out. I have to tell you now: If you're planning to escape from any kind of captivity, you'd better plan for a good six months in advance. Not getting caught is probably also a good idea, but I guess you already knew that. Really, I had just got it in my head three days before that I had a chance of escaping.

Truly, I don't know how I got to the surface without being caught. I think I made entirely too much noise. All that matters I guess is that I got at least that far.

I had carefully placed the cover for the ground opening back down, concealing the dark hole and the ladder that lead down it. Seriously, they could have been more inventive. It looked like the opening to a sewer system. Of course, I reminded myself, they didn't think of us as much more than sewage. It fit.

As I recall, back then I hadn't come to terms with what I was yet. I still thought of myself as human, which was only half-true.

No one had ever actually told me the details of my condition. I had to figure that out by myself, day by day. And everyday, I learned more about what I could and couldn't do. Knowing now what I only thought I knew then, I'm surprised that I'm still alive after all the crap I pulled.

The ground was uneven beneath my feet, and I stumbled along blindly.

It was so constrictingly dark that night. There wer no lights on the surface. They really didn't need them to tell the truth. Living things were rarely found on the surface.

I knew there were walls somewhere. I had seen them when they carried me in a month before, only half-conscious.

So I stumbled along wih my hands outstretched. I imagined the sight I would have looked had anyone been watching (or more importantly, if they could see in this cursed darkness).

A short time later, the cover opened. I could hear its hinges creak, resounding like a gunshot to my ears.

Someone shouted. Frightened, I picked up my pace until I was nearly running. The ground was more uneven here and I hoped that meant that the walls were nearing.

I fell once, but stood up and kept going. There was more shouting, this time closer, and I knew that my pursuers had heard me. Silently, I cursed myself.

Suddenly I bumped into something cold, solid, and undeniably hard. It dazed me for a second before I was able to regain my bearings and figure out what it was.

Shakely, my fingers grazed across the surface of what I guessed was a wall. Handhold materialized beneath my fingers. As I grasped them, I was sure that they would be able to find me just by the sound of my rapidly beating heart.

The moment my hands wrapped around the bars, blinding pain erupted through my body. I fought the urge to cry out.

My every pore felt afire. Telling myself that this was the only way, I started to climb and hardened my reserve.

Everytime I let go of one bar to grab another or lifted my foot to put it on another bar, the pain started afresh. My breath came in ragged pulls, and I prayed to whatever deity that had left me here like this that they wouldn't hear me.

Too late. Cruel laughter floated up to me. I grimced, because I knew that voice.

"You won't get far, girl," it said mercilessly. I gritted my teeth and grabbed the next handhold up.

My fingers wouldn't hold it. They refused to close around the bar. Frightened now, I tried to bring the other up and it did the same. Now I was only balancing on my feet, which were resting on a very slim bar.

I cried out as I fell backwards. The last thing I remember hearing before the world went black was that cruel laughter.

When I woke up a few days later, I was under the care of what I assumed amounted to our version of a doctor.

He was moving about the room, collecting different jars of substances and pooling then on a counter. I tried to say something, but it only came out as a muffled choking noise. Starting, he looked over at me and sniggered.

"Oh, you're awake. I must fetch someone to get the Alpha."

I tried a groan.

"Hmm, yes. You don't like that idea, do you?"

When I didn't answer, he continued. "For your information, Greyback has asked me to inform him when you wake. He seems to think the pup needs to learn a lesson."

Not. A. Pup. I resented being called that. I was nearly twenty, for heavens sakes. When was I going to stop being a child?

I didn't know what lesson that Greyback though he was going to teach me. Of course, I didn't know that much about werewolf packs.

Come to think of it, I didn't really know much about werewolves at that point. As I've said, I hadn't yet come to terms with what I was.

Even not knowing what was going to happen to me, the aspect of the Alpha being angry with me was terrifying. I was so young and arrogant, and when I had attempted to escape, I had actually thought that I would succeed.

Lost in these thoughts, I didn't evern notice when the stone archway that served as a door was filled with the hulking figure of Fenrir Greyback.

oooooooooo

About a month after that, when I was fully recovered from both my failed escape attempt and the Alpha's 'punishment', I was sent to another faction of our 'pack'.

It was amazing. In those few short weeks I had learned that the Alpha's word is law, and that to challenge his word is to challenge him. Of course, I had opted to learn the hard way. I think I still have the scars.

Torture. It was pure torture when he sent me to work in the rought equivalent to our infirmary. I had just spent a month laid up sick and was looking forward to either hard labor or something that resembled it. But no. It was just back to the hospital.

Three escape attempts and several more beatings later, here I am.

Even our healers have a strict social hierarchy. After my last attempt to get out (which was about five months ago), I had been dropped back to the bottom of the totem pole. I've worked my way up since then, and now I'm the fifth in command. It's a pretty fair deal, once you think of it. And healers aren't even at the bottom social bracket.

I don't think I'll try it again. In fact, I've kind of gotten used to this (sort of). Just another among the ranks of the cursed.

Just another shapeshifter.

oooooooooo

As the fifth in command, it's my petty job to prepare all of the lower ranks for the arrival of another wave of Omegas.

Omegas are simply werewolves that haven't been found yet. When Voldemort had won his war, a great many of us had been contaminated and sent to the Dens (what he calls the compounds we are confined to). I'm one of the new ones. Omegas, on the other hand, were bitten when the world was still free.

Most went into hiding when the Dark Lord had taken over. More were found every month. When they got here, Omegas were in pretty bad shape. They didn't want to come quietly.

So it was the infirmary's job to heal them so that they could be put to work and earn their place among the pack. And I got the wonderful (hear the sarcasm?) pleasure of being in charge of this movement.

After my fourth round of Omegas I had begun to believe that the world didn't like us. They were just like me, albeit a little more experienced in dealing with our condition.

I had also learned, however, that most all of them were like everyone else. They didn't want to live normal lives. They ran from society when it shunned them. Of course, I hadn't had the chance to decide, but I think that if I was still free I wouldn't shut myself up just because of what I was.

Most all of them are like our Alpha. They were proud and damned society because they shunned us. They delibrately placed themself close to civilization in hopes that they would teach civilization a lesson. This never worked, just served to create more monsters like themselves.

They are the ones that I don't mind labeling monsters and killers. They are the ones that set us all into this bracket that we can never escape. I can't despise them because they are living with it just like I am, but I want to. I want to hate them so bad it's not funny just for the simple reason that it was one of them that bit me.

I know that it's cliche and all, but I don't know how I'm supposed to fit in. I'm not welcome among humans, but I'm not welcome among my kind either. They think that I'm weak for not wanting vengence on the human race. Why would I want that? It wasn't the humans that had sentenced me to live the rest of my life in fear of the moon. The only reason that humans shunned me was because of what the monsters had made me. They were the innocents, in my opinion.

But I have no room to be idealizing. It's not like it all matters, anyway.

I'm going to die eventually, whether it be down here among the werewolves, or up on the surface with the humans.

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A/N:

Okay, what do you think? See the little blue buttom with the word "Submit Review"? Hehe. It's easy and it's fun and I appreciate it!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_**Chapter Two**_

Sometimes it's the moon that howls, not the wolf.

I can't remember who told me that, but I finally know what they mean. Maybe it was supposed to be some reverse psychology statement or whatever. All I know is that the four or so days surrounding the full moon nearly drive me crazy.

The first day isn't so bad. I'm just jittery, and my hearing is increased tenfold. In that respect I'm sort of glad that I don't live among humans. They wouldn't understand. Someone talking in a normal tone of voice is nearly deafening that day. Even though my senses are heightened, I scare most easily on that day.

Don't ask me why; I think it's stupid. But living among my own kind does come in handy those days.

The day after that it gets a little worse. I feel sick all over and I don't want to move. But at the same time, the moon is pulling at me. That's the day I get the worst kind of urges to do things that don't make any sense. And I get irritable. Yet again, that's the good thing about living among people that are like you.

Everyone stays away from each other that day, so we can't be at each others throats (literally). I smell things then. It's strange, smelling someone else's emotions and knowing that they can smell yours. Every one has a different odor, sort of like spices. They're the same but yet they're so different.

The next day after that is the full moon most of the time.

Do I even need to start on that one? Let's just put it this way: for the whole day until the moon rises, I do things that I'm sure I would never do in my right state of mind. I need things I haven't needed before, and I feel things I shouldn't feel. It's primal.

That's my least favorite of them all. It makes me ache all over for no reason.

When the moon finally does rise… Hmm. Have you ever had your bones rearranged? Skin growing everywhere at once and sprouting fur? It's not a very pleasurable experience. Everything shifts. Your bones break and put themselves back together, tendons stretch and mutate. Skin is burning with the ferocity of a forest fire; reshaping itself and stretching beyond the boundaries it should have where stretchability is concerned.

By the way, sprouting fur is the weirdest feeling in the world closely seconded by slowly losing control of your body and your thoughts until you're forced to sit back and watch yourself go mad.

The wolf emerges, triumphant in its return to govern your senses. I swear that every time it happens the wolf comes back with more enthusiasm. Slowly at first, it begins to feel things. It's wild, but not in a good way.

You want to run. You want to howl. You want to eat all at once. You're being torn eight different ways. That's the insane part. This goes on for about a moment, but it feels like forever when you're suspended in endless wants and needs.

The human side of you wants to stop. It wants to suppress this beast, this foreign body. But you can't. Next moment, you do not only want to do everything at once, but you do not want to do everything.

Your human side whispers in your ear "Stay. Don't run. Don't let go."

All the time, the wolf is wanting, "Go. Run! Run! Let me in!"

And both sides are a part of you, so you can't deny either one.

Then, after a moment of fierce battle between your mind and body, the human subsides. It's like an unspoken agreement has come between the two halves of you. The wolf pushes its way in violently.

Somewhere in all of this shifting and battling inside, you loose yourself.

After a while, you don't care anymore. When you're wolf, then your human side won't butt in, and when you're human, the wolf violates that agreement by lurking just below the surface.

It's maddening, in case I haven't already said that.

The day after a full moon change is sacred. It's reserved for rest and fulfillment. Fulfillment, that is, of the carnal urges that still lurk when we become human again. Only after this is done can the wolf be fully satiated, holed up inside your soul, waiting for the next month.

I think the best time of the month is after the change. In that day after, while you're resting and fulfilling, you can comfort yourself with the thought that you're the farthest away from the change that you can ever be.

And then it's back to work.

The second day after the moon is usually when the Omegas arrive. They are usually unconscious and bloodied up pretty bad. In rare and unfortunate cases, they arrive the third day. Then, they're twice as hard to take care of because they've been out for longer and the blood from their resistance has dried.

As I've said, it's my job as fifth in command to watch over them and make sure that they're taken care of. I just hope that there aren't more than five of them. That could get hectic.

Not long after the bells wake us up (there is little or no concept of time in this place), they bring them in for me to oversee. I thank the heavens, because there are only three of them this time. I won't be too busy.

Of course, I should be happy I get to do something. There's nothing to do in these stone passageways but work. It's a break from the boredom, albeit a gruesome one.

You think I would be used to blood by now, but I've never liked it.

I set them in beds in three different parts of the room. This makes it so that I can get to one without bothering the others. And believe me, I've seen enough Omegas in this place to know that they will be either angry or bitter (and sometimes both) when they regain consciousness.

Once the escorts are gone I set to work right away with alcohol and water, cleaning their wounds. I'm glad that they're not awake, because this would be painful if they were.

By the looks of it, they must have been pretty good at resisting.

I move as quickly as I can, going from a gash on the side of one's face to a deep cut on the other's shoulder, from the bleeding rope burns on her wrists to what looks like a stab wound on his left forearm.

They have found two females and a male this time. The numbers they are bringing in are decreasing each time, and I think that maybe the Dark Lord has almost got us all. I also think that he'll have one massive revolt on his hands if we ever come into contact with him, which is probably why he never comes down here.

Sodding coward. He just knows he'll be ripped to shreds whether he has his magic or not.

Of course, he sheds us of our magic. He snaps our wands in half when he catches us, and makes it forbidden. And yet he wields it against us.

We keep our magical herbs though. I guess he doesn't think we're skilled enough to use them.

After all the blood is washed up, I go to the storeroom and get the healing salve. I smother their gashes and cuts and burns with this. It's perfect for healing these hurts.

It takes a while to do this, because some of the wounds this time are rather large, and there seem to be a lot of them on this batch.

Soon, though, it's time to bandage them up. I think that this may be the most time consuming part of the whole fiasco because everything has to be exactly right. I'm a stickler for proper bandaging.

My first round of Omegas I had to care for were a lot worse off than this lot. There was a critical wound in one's shoulder and it wouldn't stop bleeding. I remember taking off the bandages and putting them back on thousands of times, trying to get the pressure exactly right.

I had lost that one because of the amount of blood he lost in the time it took me to get that bandaging right. I told myself I would never be stupid like that again. The nice beating that I got after that one didn't help with the convincing at all.

I thought that in wolf packs, the healers were showed gratitude. Apparently, since Voldemort didn't care whether we lived or not I was wrong. At least we weren't in the lowest bracket.

By the time I had finished bandaging the last one up, the bell had wrung for us to go back to bed. The only reason (in my opinion) they kept an organization style like this was because we would be constantly killing each other if there wasn't. At least they fought to keep some shred of humanity, right?

I made sure that they all were set for the night and retired myself. They would probably wake up tomorrow, and then I'd have to deal with the anger and the bitterness and the explanations.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day. But then of course, It's always a long day when you can't see the sun and your life is haunted by the moonlight you once thought was so brilliant.

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Hm... I am content. I was in such a tizzy (does anyone actually say that anymore? Ah well.) because for the last couple of days I couldn't upload documents, so I couldn't post :((. That was, until by good friends Merc and Anne informed me that all you had to do was export a chapter from something you've already done and erase everything. I was sooo happy. I didn't want to leave you guys hanging, you know. :)

So, now I'm sharing this information with the rest of the world. Enjoy.

Oh, and Kudos to my THREE reviewers! You guys rock.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I know that this chapter is slightly late. This is the first day I've actually had a chance to write this week. Since school and everything (blech), you can expect a chapter a week, and possibly two on the weekends. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_**Chapter Three**_

Wolves may feature in our myths, our history and our dreams, but they have their own future, their own loves, their own dreams to fulfill.

I read that in a book somewhere. By Anthony Miles, I think. A muggle.

Startlingly, he had portrayed us perfectly. As I've said, the wolf is always lurking beneath the surface, like a shark beneath the water on a placid lake. It has it's own ideas.

In all the muggle books that I read a long time ago, wolves were revered with this special kind of mystical awe. In Native American myth, the wolf is always portrayed as a Great Teacher, and a spiritual guide. Well, no offense to them, but this wolf has taught me many things about myself. Most of these lessons were ones I could have lived without learning.

They are different than us in so many ways, but yet we're both forced to survive in this small body. It wants release from this prison, and I want release from it.

Yet, I know what the wolf feels like. I know what it's like to live inside a prison that isn't agreeable with your wants and needs.

For all the complaining I do about this thing that I am, I cannot isolate it. I cannot push it away, even though I despise it with nearly every fiber of my being. I have to embrace it. It's just another lonely soul like me, trapped and alone, without any possible hope of freedom.

That's my humanity. Kind of ironic, don't you think? My humanity rests in compassion for the very thing that stole it away.

It's hopeless, I know, to sit around and think like this. The only argument I can make in my defense is that I haven't been sitting anywhere and thinking like this. I've been walking around being bored and thinking about this.

I've no room to be bored, either. There are millions of little things that have to be done around here, but I just can't bring myself to do them. No use. Just no use.

As for their own dreams... Well, the only thing I've dreamt about in a year is running or attacking people. I don't know whether he meant that in a litteral sense or a spiritual one. Either way, it's still absolutely crazy. Needless to say, the running dream is the only one this wolf inside me will ever fulfill.

I don't pretend to hold any control over any situation that has to do with my wolf, because I don't. But, just as I have a primal conscience, my wolf has a half-way human conscience. I think that it recognizes that humans have never hurt it. At any rate, that's better than all the other people in this place. Sometimes I wonder if they have any humanity left at all.

Then, the moon rolls around again, and I _know_ that they don't have any humanity.

I wake up to the sounds of movement from the ward. I can tell that my charges are awake because they are speaking in whispers.

This is new. Most of the time, I wake up to things smashing around in there. Sighing, I roll out of bed and make for the door.

They are standing at the far end of the room huddled together, so absorbed by their whispered coversation that they neither hear nor see me approach.

I clear my throat when I get as close as I dare (It's an old Healer habit... I learned a while back that it's best to keep your distance, even if an attack is not forthcoming). They whirl around like I shocked them or something.

"Ah, I see you're awake," I say, crossing my arms in front of me.

One of the women had dark hair and green eyes. She is standing to the left of the man, and it is she who speaks first. "Who are you?"

I scowl. "Well, no need to be ungreatful. I'm the healer here."

"Where is 'here' exactly?" The other woman, this time with blonde hair and brown eyes, speaks up.

"Well," I say, and start to go about my morning duties, "I don't exactly know. You are at the Den. The exact location, as far as country, is something that was never brought to my attention."

"Really?" The man asks interestedly.

"You don't really expect him to tell us, do you?" I say, shrugging in the direction in the door. "Makes for a better escape plan if we know where we are."

"Who is 'he'?"

"Fenrir Greyback. Who else? He is the Alpha here. We must obey him."

I think I see the man flinch visibly at the name. I probably would do the same. But yet again, I never had a chance to know what I'd have done.

"We'll get to that later. We musn't be rude, you know. They can't take our pleasantries away." I hold out my hand in their general direction. "Lisa Taylor."

The dark haired woman eyes my hand bayfully. I would say that I don't bite, but I don't think that would be appropriate given the whole "I'm-sorry-you've-been-captured-by-werewolves" thing.

Finally, she steps forward and shakes my hand carefully. "Jennifer Hughes."

Jennifer exchanges a look with the blonde woman, and she steps forward next. "Michelle Edwards."

I smile at her reasurringly, before looking at the man. He shakes his longish brown hair out of his eyes and takes my hand. "Remus Lupin."

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A/N: There. You've been curious, and since I haven't updated in so long I decided not to drag it out any longer. Don't worry about the other two OC people... They're only assets, and they won't really play major roles.

I had forgotten that I was writing in present tense when I wrote this :'( and I wrote it in past. Gah.

Anyway, happy R&R-ing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** _In light of the fact that my last update took a long frickin' time to get here, I've decided to start this on early. Getting it finished... Now that's another story entirely. Warning, though... I'm moving here in the next 2 weeks, so I may not be able to write much with all of these end of year school projects and packing. I promise that I will at least get this chapter done before I move... Although when I bring canon characters in it sort of messes everything up for me for some reason... Ah, well, I'm rambling, and it's not really up to me to decide. So, have fun and read away._

**Disclaimer:** _I + own equals No to the power of three. Or, if you're not good at Algebra... I don't own anything. ;)_

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Constrictum: Chapter Four

The wolf was sick, he vowed a monk to be - But when he got well, a wolf once more was he.

Walter Bower said that sometime in the mid-1300's.

And that's what wolves do (at least all the ones I know)... Work for themselves. Funny, isn't it?

So now that we are introduced, I am faced with explaining all of this to them. They seem to trust me - after more whispered conversations, that is. But it's still good. That initial trust is something that pack must share, although I resent calling the people in this Den a pack.

"Alright, I suppose that you're looking for explanations." I look to each of them in turn. "I'll start where I start with all the Omegas. The hierarchy of the Den.

"Alpha's word is law. To challenge the Alpha's word is to challenge the Alpha himself, and you most certainly do not want that. Our Alpha is Fenrir Greyback. He's to be treated with the utmost respect..." I grin, "Unless you're sure he won't hear you. But that's rare, and I can't encourage that." I cough a little here, letting them know that I don't think much of the Alpha either, but the punishment for this 'blasphemy' is far worse then pretended allegiance.

"In regular packs, there is an Alpha female, but our Alpha hasn't taken one yet," I grin again, and add in a whisper, "Can't say I blame any female that has to put up with that... But it's not my place to say."

They look attentive so far, and a little resigned. They don't want to be here; I understand that. But getting away wasn't an option, and death didn't really look that bright (although some of the bleakness did seem to be taken away from being here so long).

Since no one is asking questions yet, I presume that it's safe to go on.

"Next in this monarchy--"

"More like a dictatorship." Remus says, looking around thoughtfully.

"Yes, well... We can't actually say that. Or believe me, I'd be the first to admit it.

"Next we have the Betas. You'll know when they're around, that should be enough of a warning. Their main job in the pack is to make sure that things run smooth, and that the Alpha doesn't have to be bothered. On rare occasions, however, such as escape attempts, he's informed immediately."

"And we're supposed to conform to this? What's the punishment if we don't?" Jennifer asks, looking disgusted at the prospect of answering to someone.

I clear my throat and glare at the stone floor. "It varies. Depends on what he sees is fit."

They look like they understand. I hope that they do.

"There are different levels after Beta... It's different, depending on the job that you have within the pack. But then comes you guys. Omegas, at the bottom of the totem pole, I guess you could stay. Everyone picks on you, like you're pack sport or something. That can change, though. If you work hard, you can earn your place in the pack."

"What if we don't want a place in your pack?"

I snort. "Then get ready for a miserable existance."

It's silent for a while. I go about straightening things like I usually do. They cast glances at each other that they think I don't see. This is odd. I expected lots of questions, like all the others ask. This lot is unusually silent.

Just when this silence starts to get uncomfortable, he speaks. "So, where do we stay while we're working?"

I think that this is an odd question for the time being. "Erm... they'll be someone by as soon as they're ready for you. That's different as well, depending on the work you can do. They're sort of like barracks... Or at least the healer ones are. Until then, you're supposed to stay here." I shoot them what I hope is a stern-ish glance. "And I wouldn't recommend wandering around. If they don't know you here, you're free game."

"How long?"

"Usually it takes about three days for them to come 'round. It's getting kind of packed around here, and the time it takes for them to find room gets longer every time. Until then I'll make it as hospitable for you as I can; I know what it's like when the person that takes care of you until they find room is unpleasant."

They have another silent conversation in the wake of this explanation. It leaves me wondering who they were before they were caught. Were they friends? Lovers?

And then I mentally slap myself and remind me that I can't get too attached to the wards.

There are just so many in this compound that they call a Den. I can't keep track of them all when they leave to find their places. Besides, if Voldemort knew that we were getting chummy down here, he'd seperate us into smaller packs. He doesn't want us to be happy.

I've never been among humans in this state. I don't really know what humans think of us firsthand; just the stories from others and the knowledge of how I felt about werewolves when I was free.

They tell me that they think we're all monsters, that we can't get paying jobs. They say that they hate us on the surface. I don't know who theses people were when they were free, or how long they've had to suffer like this. But I know that they are probably used to the prejudice the wizarding world already has against what they label as 'Dark Creatures'.

I think that's good. It gets them all the more ready for the ridicule they're going to face from their own kind as long as they remain Omegas. Which, I'm told now, is getting longer each time around. Alpha must be displeased of late.

I'm glad that I already have a pre-established place here... That I'm not one of the ones trying to prove myself in oppression.

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**A/N:** _Was that short for the standard? I don't know; I'm not keeping track. I didn't log on tonight with the intention of adding again, but I guess it just happened that way_._ :P._ _Good, right? I'd also like to recognize the people that have reviewed. I have SEVEN!! Yay. I think that's the most I've ever got on anything. I'm soo happy. I also have 314 hits as of right now. My head is as big as a watermelon. Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!_


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